A Blessed Event

Top Headlines

Recent News

New York City Abuzz Over New Resident

NEW YORK—With word spreading rapidly through office towers, apartment buildings, and across all five boroughs, sources confirmed Friday that New Yorkers were abuzz over reports that a new resident had moved to the city.

Your Horoscopes — Week Of July 7, 2014

ARIES: Your belief that nothing can stop you will be tested this week by depression, procrastination, concrete barriers, dysentery, armed gunmen, and the unanimous passage of several laws targeted specifically at stopping you.

Ranking Women Somehow Not Issue In Miss USA Debacle

NEW YORK—As backlash against the Miss USA pageant continues to spread following controversial anti-immigration remarks made by the contest’s owner, Donald Trump, sources confirmed this week that the overt ranking of women is somehow not a part of the ongoing nationwide outrage.

Insurance Only Covers Generic Heart Transplant

GALLATIN, TN—Saying he will just have to trust that the new organ he receives is as good as the other options out there, local man Keith Palmero confirmed Tuesday that his insurance provider would only cover a generic heart for his upcoming transplant surgery.
End Of Section
  • More News
TV Listings
Just Like Everything Else!: Fox 8 p.m. EDT/7 p.m. ABC Pete's wife is still on him about building that darn shed, these kids are going to be the death of Sheila and Dave, and the hot next-door neighbor is up in EVERYBODY'S business! Sunday nights on ABC couldn't be any more familiar!

Special Coverage

Healthy Living

  • The Onion’s Guide To Gym Etiquette

    Every new year brings a surge in gym membership from new members nicknamed “resolutionists,” many of whom may be unaware that there are unspoken rules everyone must observe when working out.

Productivity

A Blessed Event

I have just received a telegram from my mistress and sweet-heart, Miss Bernadette Fiske, that says she has given birth to a bouncing baby boy of my own siring, and that I should please send more money. I am a papa once again! Huzzah!

I realize that this joyous news may confuse regular readers of the Message, since I under-took my romantic friendship with Miss Fiske just two months ago and we have never actually mingled our procreative appendages or even laid eyes on one another. But through-out my long existence, I have learned that life often takes unexpected twists and turns, and who am I to question it?

As soon as I received the happy tidings, I put the servants to work decorating the old nursery where my other sons were raised. Of course, it had not been employed for that purpose for the better part of a century, having long ago been converted into a charnel-house for the shriveled corpses of my enemies.

But in my moment of paternal joy, a most unusual thing happened that threatened to mar the other-wise gay proceedings. My man-servant Standish, whom I had charged to over-see the nursery's preparation, broke from his duties and burst into my bed chamber. "Sir," he sputtered, "please excuse my impertinence, but as your loyal servant, I can no longer restrain my sentiments. I greatly fear that for some time you have been the victim of a confidence-trickster. I submit that not only is Miss Fiske lying about the existence of an infant of your parentage, but it is very likely that there is no Miss Fiske at all, and that an anonymous rogue has bereft you of a small fortune. In the name of God, sir, I implore you to sever all ties with this beastly scoundrel immediately and end your unwitting participation in this cruel and tragic charade."

For a while, I sat stunned. Then I decided Standish was just jealous of my virility. That, and he probably also harbored a lingering resentment about the fact that I sold his only son into indentured servitude aboard a merchant marine sloop. Although rather peeved by Standish's audacity, I decided to show mercy and commanded him to return to decorating the nursery.

I wish to conclude by assuring my readers that I fully intend to wed Miss Fiske and rescue my son from bastardry. The boy will find a silver spoon eternally shoved down his throat. Perhaps I have become softer in my dotage, but I am determined that my child won't have to suffer the hard-ships I experienced during my hardscrabble pioneer boyhood. I think I will name him N. Aeschylus.

Next Story